


living proof

by charleybradburies



Series: Destiel Week 2015 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: 1_million_words, Cultural References, Dean Sings, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Family, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Father-Daughter Relationship, Future Fic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Married Couple, Off-screen Relationship(s), One Shot, POV Dean Winchester, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Prom, Singing, Song Lyrics, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies/pseuds/charleybradburies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>DESTIEL WEEK PROMPT: DAY TWO: SONG LYRICS AND/OR QUOTE</p>
  <p>“A bunch of girls find out this asshole is dating all of them, so they gang up on him. It doesn’t quite work for them, but they didn’t have the arsenal we do.”</p>
  <p>“Hey! I said no weapons!”</p>
  <p>“You said no <i>guns.</i>”</p>
  <p>“I meant ‘no weapons.’ Now, I’m amending my former statement to be ‘no weapons.’”</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	living proof

**Author's Note:**

> A) Written for day two of [Destiel Week 2015.](http://agentroxylancelots.tumblr.com/post/115676058869/dailydeancas-dailydeancas-presents-destiel-week)
> 
> B) Title and lyrics herein from the song "Living Proof" by Gregory Alan Isakov.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Comments, questions, etc. are greatly appreciated!! xx

_The night fell with bicycle bells; the dark had wooden teeth. Oh, we broke on up to hill country - the air was thin and sweet._

* * *

“He’s a jackass!” 

“Yep.”

“And I hate his guts!”

“Naturally.”

“And he is _so_ going to regret this!”

“Woah, woah, woah!”

Dean thrusts his hand out to take hold of Ellie’s wrist before she’s able to get far. His thumb comes to sit on her pressure point, and in her angrily swinging back around to face him she glances down nervously - he’d forgotten about the tattoo.

“Dad!” she yells, begging him to let her go, one of her high-heeled boots sending muffled but jarring taps through the carpeted floor. 

“He fucked another girl! In a handicapped bathroom! At _prom!”_

“I know, sweetie," Dean replies, hoping she can't tell how much willpower it takes him to talk calmly. 

"But running for a gun is _not_ the best idea in this situation.” 

She huffs, and her sigh lets him know she’s not going anywhere now that she’s intent on finishing this argument with him, so he releases her arm. She crosses both of them over her chest with another dramatic huff, and it makes him uncomfortable that the black bra she had is almost entirely visible with her dress pressed against her skin. Had she _really_ gone to her prom wearing that? 

Served him right, letting Charlie be the one to take her shopping. She always found loopholes, since he and Cas weren’t willing to push quite hard enough to fill any disciplinary gaps. Dean had been in high school once, which made this scary on multiple fronts - he’d been the jackass boyfriend a number of times, but luckily none of those girls had training with deadly weapons and contact with some hardcore paranormal shit. That he knew of, at least. 

Well, there’d been Jo. He’d flirted with Jo, but both she and Ellen had straight up _kicked_ his ass before, well, kicking it. Jo didn't count as a teenage girl taken advantage of - she was an honorary Winchester, and a complete badass. Dean'd bet there were quite a few boys who'd found themselves in a similar situation as this lusty punk had just walked into with this Winchester girl.

* * *

_She held onto my coat that night like a kid lost in her sleeves. Oh, we warmed the ground, we hushed our sound, we slept on walking feet._

* * *

“So, what? Let him get away with this? Put a picture on Facebook so everyone can mock me?” she presses, in that aggressive little voice of hers that indicates she’s trying to make a retort even though she’s not quite there. He’s giving the tears maybe a minute or two.

“Honestly, I don’t know. But…” Dean starts, trying to make his tone as supportive as he can, as though he wasn’t considering kicking the guy to Timbuktu with Meg or Gabriel on his back for a little extra torment, and waits for Ellie to really look at him. She doesn’t for a couple minutes, but then she kicks off her shoes and comes to sit down next to him on her bed. 

“It’s one in the morning, and we all should get some sleep. We can get up a little later than usual, and then you can call up that - what did you -"

“Squad?” she poses, that small “jeez, dad, you’re so old and out of touch” sort of annoyance peeking through her still frustrated expression. Dean nods.

“Squad, of yours, and see if they can come over, and one of us, maybe Aunt Charlie, can take you over to the grocery store for the appropriate comfort foods and one of those movies from the rental thing, and you guys can sit around and eat pizza and trash him and his friends for a few hours, and then close ranks and figure out where to go next. And if you can figure out who the other girl is-"

“John Tucker Must Die,” Ellie says declaratively, and Dean’s brow furrows.

“I thought his name was Mark.”

“ _Oh_ my god, Dad. Yes, his name is Mark. _John Tucker Must Die_ is a movie. It’s a classic.”

“Haven’t heard of it, so that’s debatable.”

She scoffs, but as her eyes roll at him her anger seems to be fading.

“A bunch of girls find out this asshole is dating all of them, so they gang up on him. It doesn’t quite work for them, but they didn’t have the arsenal we do.”

“Hey! I said no weapons!”

“You said no _guns._ ”

“I meant ‘no weapons.’ Now, I’m amending my former statement to be ‘no weapons.’”

“Whatever. We can still destroy him.”

* * *

_We were flicker and flame, yeah, we burned ‘till the morning. Darlin’, pardon me - off in the night you can hear ‘em bright, the sirens of the sea; oh, and city birds and alley girls, they all just sing for free._

* * *

Dean just smiles gently, slinging one arm around her. She _was_ his girl, after all. Only made sense she’d sound like such a damn Winchester.

She hasn’t done it in a while - _apparently_ she was too old - but she leans deeply into his shoulder, snuggling the crown of her head up to his chin, and lets one of her hands rest on his thigh like she wanted a hug but just wasn’t going to make the effort. Sure enough, he soon feels the telltale dampness of the shoulder of his tee shirt. 

She shivers a little bit - of course she does, she doesn’t even have _clothes_ on, for fuck’s sake - and he just barely lets go of her so he can pull his jacket off and sling it over her shoulders. She doesn’t look at him, but she does snuggle back up to him again. This time, it only takes a couple of minutes for her to wrap her arms around his chest. The jacket falls back onto the bed, but she’s still crying, and he just pulls her tighter. 

“I really liked him, Daddy,” Ellie mumbles eventually, and Dean pulls the littlest distance away, only to press a kiss to her hair. The last time she’d let him, he hadn’t had to lift his head up to reach hers. 

_Ick. Hairspray. Dammit, Charlie._

“His loss, baby girl. His loss.” 

She scoffs a bit, no longer fond of being babied, even though she _was_ a freaking baby. MaryEllen Johanna Winchester was _his_ freaking baby, dammit. Bobbi was 24 - _she_ had permission not to be the baby anymore. Thirteen years their baby boy, then eight their baby girl, and with her college graduation and her Stanford Law admission behind her…she was a formidable young woman. Ellie, though - at fifteen, she still had a lot of kinks to work out. He _wasn’t_ letting go of her just yet, no matter how much she loved to remind him that her guidance counselor already had her start thinking about college.

“Daddy?” she asks tentatively after a while, the hot, wet air of the inquiry directed at his neck. “Can you sing to me like you used to?”

“Sing you to sleep?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Of course,” he answers, hoping that he’s not conveying all of his relief. If she knew that he was overjoyed it’d be a good ten years and a near-death experience before she asked him again.

“Just go brush your teeth and wash your -"

“Dad,” she whines as she starts to stand up, and he stops.

“I know how to get ready for bed.”

Dean raises his hands in defeat. She’s got her clothes pulled from a drawer and fisted in her hand in a matter of seconds - boxer shorts and a tiny, thin tee shirt, because apparently it wasn’t cool to wear pajamas anymore - and when she ducks out into the hall and to the bathroom, he grabs the chair from her desk and moves it next to her bedside. 

With all the make-up - and God knows what else she's got on, he'd have to ask Charlie what the hell she'd done to her later - she’s out for a while; Dean gets some time to peek around her room a little. Not to snoop - he was opposed to snooping, and she was close enough to Charlie that they knew what was going on, and besides, they’d all trained her well enough that she noticed when things were out of place - but just to take in the surroundings. She never let him in for very long anymore, so a lot of this is pretty much foreign. The new posters, most from movies he’d couched as crappy and bands he hadn’t even heard of; the selection of books scattered around on the desk, a conglomeration of Philosophical theory and chick lit and one book that he was pretty sure was porn…

“How is she?” he hears Cas ask after a few minutes, and turns to see him leaning into the doorway.

“Well enough,” Dean shrugs, walking over. “No bodily harm’s come to anyone yet, so that’s something.”

“Definitely not a guarantee when a Winchester’s pissed off. That’s good,” Cas nods.

“ _A_ Winchester, babe?”

“We weren’t there and we don’t know where he lives, so he’s safe from us as of yet,” Cas reminds him. 

“Besides, I think she’s perfectly capable of raining enough holy fire and brimstone for any heartbreaker to end up ruing the day they were born.”

“That’s our girl,” Dean smiles, and the hand that entwines its fingers with Cas’ pulls him closer, into a soft, affectionate kiss. That is, until a moment later, the telltale scoff comes from beside them.

“Figures. _I’m_ having a crisis of the heart, and _you’re_ making out. That’s gotta be like, Murphy’s law or something,” Ellie groans teasingly before pushing past them and back into her room. She tosses her prom clothes in a corner - Dean won’t bother her about that now - and switches off all but the main lights, pulling out the cord for the lamp at one of the sides of her bed to replace it with her phone charger. 

“She asked me to sing her to sleep,” Dean whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Cas’ hand before letting go of him. Cas’ eyes widen in surprise, but he says nothing, knowing that the time for his own questions is later, and he heads off back to the living room where he, Anna, Charlie and Sam had been awaiting the results of the father-daughter heart-to-heart.

By the time Dean’s sitting down in the desk chair, Ellie’s turned off the lights and tucked herself in, and Dean leans down to kiss her forehead before he starts. When she’d been very little, she’d preferred 'Hey Jude', just like he had, but the past decade or so had hummed a different tune. 

_"The night fell with bicycle bells; the dark had wooden teeth…”_

_“That sky glowed all calico like phosphor in the sea. To the ground we fall; she owns us all: kings and boys and beast, kings and boys and beast.”_

* * *

“We were all buried jewels ‘neath the grass in the suburbs, and we were all living proof.”


End file.
